My name is Ragna Egilsson. Ever since I was a kid, I've always wanted to be like my father, Bjorn Egilsson, the Flying Axe. There are stories about him throwing his axe at a gigantic ship, making it sink, only for his axe to come back to him. I've seen him catch giant fish the same way too. How does he do it? I have no answer to that question. The guy was so raw that whenever he lights up the fireplace, all he does is rub his beard on a piece of wood like a matchstick. I also heard the story of the time he blocked a cannonball from an enemy ship with his chest hair and kicked it back at them. This man was a beast among beasts. I always wondered if I could catch up to him.
As a kid, I would watch my dad train outside using a wooden sword. I remember copying every move of his. I watched him craft blades for the knights of Aglonius. Eventually he took note of my interest in the way of combat, so he started mentoring me in the art of battle and smithing. I kept growing stronger and stronger, eventually surpassing all the adults in my village by the time I turned 13. This boosted my ego and confidence, giving me all the self-assurance that I needed. See, I had no friends during my entire life living couped up in this village. As a kid, parents would forbid their children from playing with me because of my dark skin and my coily hair. I did not understand why I looked so different from everyone else. My plump lips and my button nose felt so out of place compared to everyone around me.
The only person who accepted me was Bjorn. He was the one who told me that on his expeditions to the Dark Continent, there were people who looked just like me, some probably even stronger than Bjorn himself. Because of this, Bjorn made me realise that I wasn't an anomaly at all. This self-assurance and thrill for battle led me to get into many fights with other kids. I would leave playgrounds with children bruised and bloodied, piled up on the floor like corpses in the aftermath of a war. The villagers called me a savage because of it. At times I would hear some adults making disparaging remarks about Bjorn for adopting someone like me, causing me to beat them up too.
Even until this day, the streets in my village empty out the instant they see me in the vicinity as if I was some sort of demon. Regardless of Bjorn's acceptance of me, I understood that he wouldn't be around forever and when the day comes that the Lord takes his soul, I would be left all alone. That's why I have always wanted to join the Aglonius Knights. Because there was a chance that I could be accepted by more people there due to the merit of my skills in battle. However, upon hearing the tales of Bjorn's battles in the Dark Continent, I was even more motivated to join the knighthood so that I can travel there too.
Bjorn wasn't a fan of the idea of me joining the Knighthood. Regardless of the stories he told me about it, he had a tendency of changing the topic when it came to talking about the wars, he was a part of. Most of the logic I gained about him were from books at the local Cathedral that I sneaked off to read occasionally. I was never allowed within the vicinity of the Cathedral because the priests saw me as a demon. One of them splashed holy water on my face when I was 6, so Bjorn beat him up. This is why Bjorn's shop was pretty much isolated from the rest of the village. The other reason why I want to join the Knighthood is so that Bjorn doesn't have to suffer because of me anymore.
One day, I travelled to the Crimsonfield Manor to deliver a Rapier requested by Count Crimsonfield, the Feudal Lord of our village. It was the first time that I'd ever left the village, honestly. Once I got there, I saw a large crowd of individuals outside the manor, the size of the mansion didn't really catch my eye to be honest. What caught my eye were these people. They looked just like me, each with a different shade of ebony, brown, caramel, olive, all the way to yellow just as Bjorn had described. It was damn near uncanny. They were making sculptures out of the plants. It was a beautiful sight to behold.
I walked up to one of them.
"Hey there mister! Are you my biological father?"
"Huh? No!! What kinda dumbass question is that?! Do I look that old to you, motherfucker?! I'm not your dad! Man, I haven't even touched a woman's hand in my life!" he slapped the air.
"Oh. Are you my brother then?"
"No! What kind of question is that?! Well… honestly, we could never know. Our families got split up, after all. For all we know, I could be a distant relative, I guess. That's why you can't be having sex around here! Lest you end up with your papa's other child. You'll end up giving birth to a monstrosity! That's the reason why I don't have a woman. Not because I can't have one. But because I don't want one."
"Have you been to the Dark Continent?"
"Nope, I was born and bred here."
"Oh, I see. By the way, how are you turning those shrubs into animals? Are you using magic?"
"Magic? You know we aren't allowed to learn magic you silly goose."
"Hm? Why?"
"I have no answer to that question, kid. I don't make the rules."
"Hm. Rules sure do suck huh? That's why I don't follow 'em! Haha!"
"What a strange thing for a slave to say, don't you think? Now that you've mentioned it, who are you anyway kid? I've never seen you around here before."
"Name's Ragna. I live in the village nearby."
"You must be a Freeman then, huh?" said the man under his breath.
"Hm? I have no idea what you're talking about."
"Oh, pay no mind to it. So, what brings you here?"
"My dad said I should deliver this Rapier to some dude called Crimsonfield. You know him?"
"Lord Crimsonfield, you say. Very well, please, follow me."
As we walked towards the door, I noticed a girl sitting by the porch, sipping from a cup of tea. The way she sipped on it made it seem like the tea was tasteless and bland. Even though her hair was loosely curled, and her skin was a lighter shade of olive, she still bore resemblance to the people of the dark continent. She was around my age. I couldn't stop staring at her.
"Lady Roberta, we've gotten a delivery. Is it for your father?"
The girl got up from her seat in a rush.
"Th…thank you. I'll give it to him immediately."
I tapped the girl on the shoulder.
"Excuse me, miss? Are you my sister?"
"Huh? Of course not." She looked confused.
"Young lad, you are going to have to stop asking that question."
"Ah, right, my bad."
The girl pulled out a bag of coins from her lace bonnet, almost as if she were hiding it. She put the bag of coins firmly in my hands.
"Thank you." She turned to the plant sculptor.
"Peter, I'll take the sword to father."
"Lady Roberta, I'm sure you know that it's against the law for a woman to wield a blade."
"Pete I…"
"Nah ah. Lady Roberta, I can't let you do that. Lest you want to invoke the wrath of your father upon both of us?"
She looked away with sadness in her eyes.
"Alright."
"Man, that rule is a pile of bullshit. Swinging a blade is the biggest honour a human can experience! Why deprive that of someone just because they piss sitting down?!" I yelled.
"Women do piss sitting down, right? I haven't really spoken to any." I whispered in the girl's ear.
"Uhm…yeah." Said the girl as she made a weirded-out expression and pulled back a bit as if there was a bee floating near her in response to my question.
The two of them stared at me, clearly surprised. The girl smiled upon hearing those words coming from my mouth.
"What is this commotion now?" said a middle aged chubster as he walked outside of the mansion onto the porch.
"Oh, father, it, it is nothing!" said the girl.
The chubby geezer looked at the bag of coins on my hands and started to seethe with uncontrollable fury.
"Why is there a darkie holding a bag of coins?! Who allowed this?!" He wrenched the money from my grip.
"Hey! I earned that's my money! I earned it fair and square."
"Piss off ape! For all I know you might be trying to scam us out of our money!"
After uttering those words, the geezer saw the sculpture guy holding the Rapier.
"Whose sword is this?! Answer me!"
"Lord Crimsonfield, this sword was to be delivered to you!"
"What, I do not recall ever ordering a sword?!"
"Oh my~"
He started seething and breathing like an inbred mountain dweller as he stared at the girl in disgust.
"So, you think you could fool me, Roberta?! It was you who requesting this sword behind my back wasn't it?"
"No, father I…"
"You nap-headed wretch!!" He slapped the girl across the face causing her to fall to the floor.
The other servants watched the fray in disbelief. Ticked off, the geezer yelled at them all to mind their own business and get back to work, and they followed suit, coupled by sounds of inaudible murmurings. He turned his head towards me and gave off a nasty smirk.
"So, you must be that coon shit that I heard so much about. The one Bjorn kept as a pet?" he asked.
I picked up the sword from the floor. The cloth covering it was torn and dirty. "I'm no pet. I'm the son of Bjorn Egilsson… Ragna Egillson!"
"I see. Out of my immense respect for Bjorn the Flying Axe, I shall let this whole scenario slide. Him adopting a darkie is beyond me. Then again, I'm not one to speak! Hahahahahahaha!!" said the old fart as he walked back into the manor.
There was a moment of silence.
"Yeah, little bro, you're going to have to leave now. I'm sorry for this whole ruckus," said the sculptor dude.
"It's okay." I walked off the porch and towards the gigantic pearly gates, on my way to commoner society with the Rapier.
By some strange sense of compulsion, I looked back towards the Manor. By the 4th floor, towards the far corner of the house, there was a window. I saw the girl sitting by the window, seemingly pondering her existence. I wanted to go talk to her.
There was a tree that was tall enough to allow me to reach her window, so I snuck around and quickly climbed up the tree.
"Hey!" I greeted her.
She was shocked by my sudden appearance. "W…what are you doing here? If my father or any of the servants catch you here, you'll be killed!" she exclaimed.
"Don't worry, I won't be here for long. I just wanted to give you this. You bought it fair and square, right?"
"Are you sure? I mean, I'm not allowed to--"
"Just take it."
"But I have no way of paying you back. My father took all those coins from you."
"You mean these coins?" I pulled out the bag of coins from my pocket, having snatched them from the fat geezer during our little scuffle.
"W…wait, how did you--?"
"It doesn't really matter. Point is, you paid for the sword fair and square. Now take it."
She slowly took the sword from me. "Thank you. I'll take good care of it," she muttered to herself.
"Do you even know how to swing that thing?"
"Huh?"
"The sword. Do you know how to swing it?"
"No. After all, we women aren't allowed to even touch a sword."
"That's dumb. What happens when a woman does hold a sword?"
"They either get stoned or burnt at the stake."
"Why? Isn't that a bit extreme?"
"The laws of this land see a woman swinging a sword as an act of impurity and misfortune."
"Wow, now that's stupid. I mean, if you can't swing a blade, how will you be able to defend yourself? The world is such an unpredictable place, and we men won't always be around to protect you guys after all. At least, that's what my father told me."
"Your dad said that?"
"Yeah. Do you know what else he told me? He said that he met a tribe of female warriors!"
"Female warriors you say? A whole tribe of them?"
"Yeah! In the middle of the Dark Continent!"
"The Dark Continent you say?" Her face suddenly changed when the Dark Continent was brought up.
"I wonder what it's like down there."
"Yeah. I actually plan to go there once I become a knight!"
"Really?"
"Yeah!"
"Hey."
"Wassup?"
"Are you a swordsman or something? The way you talk about warriors and wanting to join the Knighthood just had me wondering if--"
"Yeah, you could call me a warrior of some sort, but I've never seen a battlefield in my life. The closest thing to a battlefield that I've experienced were fights with the kids in my village."
The girl chuckled. "Did you ever win any of those 'wars'?" she asked.
"Hahaha. You could say that! Though, I won by a bitch of a hair! Wait, is that how you say it? Or hair of an inch? Breath of the hair?" I massaged my temple trying to look for the correct phrase.
"By hair's breadth?"
"Yeah… that! I won by hair's breath!"
"Breadth."
"That's what I said."
"No silly, you said 'breath'. It's 'breadth'."
"Bread?"
"No." She laughed. "Follow my lips. Bread…th. Breadth."
"Oh, breadth! I got it! Ahem! I won by a hair's breadth!" I said, striking a pose like a bodybuilder.
Roberta started clapping her hands.
"Did I get it right?" I asked her.
"Yep! You said it right this time." She chuckled.
"Nice!"
"You said your dad was Bjorn the Flying Axe, right? If he trained you, then you must be really strong huh?"
"I'm getting there. Right now, I'm not as strong as I would like to be though."
"Say, what's your reason for wanting to get stronger? Why do you pursue the way of the blade?"
"Hm? What a question. I don't think I can answer that. I mean, do we really need a reason to like something?"
"Hm." She looked at me with more curiosity.
"What about you? Why do you wanna learn how to fight?"
She looked away. "I…I can't answer that."
"Oh well, I can respect that."
Then there was a small moment of silence between the both of us.
An idea struck me, and I turned to her. "Hey! I know! How about I teach you how to fight?"
"Huh?"
"I'll teach you the good old Egillson Sword Style! That way, we can both enter the Knighthood of Aglonius and see the Dark Continent together! How does that sound?"
"Weren't you listening to me? Women aren't allowed to wield a blade lest they be burnt upon a stake!"
"Who cares! If they try to burn you on a stake, you can just cut them down with the Egillson Sword Style. If you learn from me, you'll pretty much be one of the strongest swordsmen out there."
She laughed. "My goodness. You are such a simpleton. Alright, it's settled. I'll learn from you."
"Cool! I'll be back right here, at this time, tomorrow! So, get ready, okay? See ya!"
"Hey, wait! What's your name?"
"Oh, I'm Ragna! Ragna Egillson! And you are Rebecca, right?"
"Roberta! Roberta Crimsonfield."
"It sure was nice meeting ya, Roberta!"
"Likewise, Ragna." She smiled.
I snuck out of the Crimsonfield manor after jumping down from the tall tree and ran back home. For the first time in my life, I had made a friend.
I went back home to deliver the news to Bjorn, who had asked me what had taken so long. I told him about all the people from the Dark Continent that I saw that day. I also told him about the situation with Lord Crimsonfield, the fat geezer, but I omitted the part where I punched him in the face.
I then mentioned talking to Roberta. His face started to light up in excitement. I saw a tear roll off his right eye.
"Hm? Dad, what's wrong is there something in your eye?"
"My son spoke to a girl?"
"Uhm, yeah, is that a big deal or something?"
"My son spoke to a girl!" Bjorn clutched me in a headlock, ruffling my hair. "I'm so proud of you son! When are those grandkids of mine coming ey?! When are they coming?! Hahahaha!!"
"Hey, piss off you old geezer!" I broke out of the chin lock threw Bjorn across the floor. As he fell to the floor, he remained laying on his back and began laughing.
"Hm? What's so funny?"
"I'm just glad that you have one more person in your life for you to cherish. This way, you will have more of a reason to fight. A man is at his strongest when he has something to protect. Never forget that. Do you hear me, you brat?!"
"R…right!"
I didn't truly understand what he meant at the time. But those are words that I vowed to never forget. The next day, I went to the Crimsonfield manor, I saw a blonde man walking out the door tipping his hat to Lord Crimsonfield. I hid in the bushes as his carriage passed by me on its route to exiting the manor. That blonde haired dude had a punchable face, I didn't know why, but something about him just rubbed me the wrong way. While hiding, I saw Roberta waiting by the window by her room as promised, so I ran across the vast front yard of the manor in order to reach the tall tree. I climbed up on it so that I can greet her.
"Yo!" As I greeted her, she got startled.
"Ragna, you almost gave me a heart attack."
"My bad. So, are you ready for your first day of training?" I asked.
"Yeah! This is usually the time I go horse riding, so my dad shouldn't suspect much." She clutched the rapier on her hip as she nodded. She was wearing a Riding Habit, which was mainly reserved for riding horses. However, it wouldn't be farfetched to admit that it was more appropriate than a dress for a battle scenario.
"Great, let's go!" I grabbed her by the arm.
"Hey, wait!" I pulled her towards me and jumped off the tree while carrying her on my back. We dashed towards the horse steads so that she could go get her horse. I put her down once we got there. She looked like she was in a catatonic state after being hurled around like that. At that moment, I remembered that Bjorn once told me to be careful when handling a woman because they are as fragile as a dried leaf, and even more so for me because I had gained near superhuman level strength by being trained by Bjorn himself. So, I apologized for being so inconsiderate.
"Uhm, Roberta I apologize for being so inconsiderate."
"It's… fine." She said while stuck in that state of shock. She then shook her head to snap out of it. And demanded that we get away from the manor before we get caught.
"Ah yeah, right!" I replied.
"I'm going to get my horse in the woods, meet up with me at the fork road northward. You know where that is right?" I said.
"Yeah, that won't be a problem!" said Roberta as she rode towards the gate of the mansion. I jumped over the walls of the manor and ran into the nearby woods where I left my horse Marx tied up onto one of the trees, I eventually met up with Roberta on the Fork Road as per our agreement. We rode towards my home to train.
Bjorn met Roberta. As far as Bjorn was concerned, he didn't care about the fact that this girl was the daughter of a noble, nor did he care that she was wielding a blade. In fact, the guy even overlooked some of the training. We taught her the basic forms for the first day, we made her practise these for 1000 repetitions. We made her jog for 10kms. We made her do 50 push ups and sit ups. We then made her practice the forms a 1000 more times. For a girl we initially thought was pampered, she just kept surpassing our expectations. 50 push ups are not much, she was struggling to do 20, Bjorn even suggested reducing the push ups to 15 to lessen the strain on her body, but she refused and insisted on tackling the burden head on. She ran those 10kms so hard and swing the sword so hard that she even began coughing out blood. Whenever she was about to reach her limit, I would give her a glass of water and she would continue with her task full heartedly. At the end of the training session, we both rode back to her manor, and I would see her off for another day. This process would be part of our daily routine.
One day, on the porch, I swore I saw the blonde guy smooching up on her neck and biting her ear before setting off into his carriage. She seemed disconnected from the whole situation. When I asked her about it, she wouldn't answer me. During practice, her technique became much more elegant and precise. Eventually after a month or two she became ready to spar with me. To build her endurance, we replaced her sword with a 50kg slab of metal for her to practice her forms with. This not only improved her strength but also her speed as well. We also placed weights on her wrists and ankles to improve her sprinting. Eventually, our daily routine became less consistent. I would find the blonde-haired guy arriving to the Manor around the time I get there, and she wouldn't appear on her bedroom window at all. Sometimes I would find the blonde-haired guy kissing her and touching her as she lay her bed. I couldn't understand why I felt so uneasy. I was reminded of that strange feeling I had when I watched all the other kids in my village playing together while I just sat alone on the side. I hated this feeling more than anything. I couldn't understand why I felt that way.
One day, as Roberta and I walked through my village on a break from training, we noticed the villagers looking at us like we were monsters, pulling their kids away from us. We just carried on our merry way ignoring the hostility.
"Ragna, you once asked me why I want to master the way of the sword. Remember?" said Roberta.
"Huh? Oh yeah, I totally forgot about that. Why are you bringing it up all of a sudden?"
"See. I just want to be free. If I become strong, not only will I be free, but I'll also have the strength to cling onto that freedom."
"Freedom? Freedom from what?"
"Everything. I…" She couldn't finish her sentence. I could tell that she wasn't fully secure in confiding with me on this matter. We've known each other for months now, so I wanted her to trust me. I wanted her to be open with me. I wanted to understand her on a deeper level. I wanted to understand the very core of her being. I did not understand why I felt this way, but it was true. So, seeing her struggle to open up to me kind of hurt.
"It's okay, Roberta. Whatever your reasons for wielding the sword are, I won't judge." From thereon, there was a cold silence lingering in the air as we sat.
"I… I want to kill my dad."
"Huh? Roberta, y…you don't really mean that do you?"
"See? That's exactly the reaction I was trying to avoid."
"I mean. I've seen the way he treats you so, I wouldn't blame you for feeling that way."
"You are probably wondering why someone like me, who descended from the Dark Continent, is the child of an Aglonian Count, huh?"
"It's not that farfetched though, is it? He adopted you just like Bjorn adopted me, right?"
"I'm his biological daughter. A half breed. He looks at me like a stain in his bloodline. When I was six, he sold my mother off to a Merchant from the Kingdom of Achaar."
"He sold your mom? Huh? How does that work? Like, if you love someone and have kids with them, why on earth would you sell them off? I didn't even know that was a thing. Is it some kind of Rich people custom?"
"Custom? Yeah, you could say that."
"Hm. Interesting."
"It was not love by the way. My mother was a slave and my dad forced himself onto her."
"What?! Your mother was a slave? Does that mean all those servants are slaves too?"
"Uhm, yeah. Was that not apparent to you?"
"N…no. I try not to assume the worst."
"That's quite an optimistic worldview you have there, Ragna. I would say that it's because you reside in this couped up Hamlet here, hidden from the rest of the world. However, the Hamlet is full of examples of all the things that are wrong with this world. Your optimism makes me wonder if you've ever even noticed the way the people in this village stare at us in disgust. The same look my father gives me." Said Roberta as she tried to fight back the tears in her eyes.
"Yeah, I've noticed. Since the dawn of my existence. I have always been alone. Whenever I tried to play with the other kids, their parents would beat them up and reprimand them. Eventually, those very same kids ended up harbouring feelings of resentment towards me too. So, basically you are my first friend! Well, second if we're counting Bjorn. After all, you two are the only people who've accepted me."
"Then I'm sure you understand that the whole world is like this, right? We of the Dark Continent are seen as demons."
"Well, I try not to let it get to me."
"It's easy for you to be that optimistic, Ragna. You aren't a slave like me or the others."
"No way, you can't possibly be…"
"Yeah, regardless of how it might seem. I'm a slave. I just happen to be treated better than everyone else because I'm the Count's daughter."
"Oh… I… I had no idea."
"Yeah. Now he plans on selling me off to be the wife of Victor von Einsbern. They say he collects wives from across all eight seas, like trophies."
"Wait, what?! You mean THE Victor von Einsbern? No way!"
"That's why I need to be stronger, so that I can kill my dad and escape before that day comes. Should Victor come after me, I'll fight back too."
"No, Roberta, you don't have to stain your hands with blood like that! How about you just come live with me and Bjorn! You'll be free! If they come after you, Bjorn and I will protect you!"
"You don't get it do you Ragna? If I just leave the slaves at the Crimsonfield won't be free. If they're not free, then I'm not free either. Those people practically raised me when my mother wasn't around. They actually made me believe that it's okay for someone like me to exist. With them, I could kind of understand what it was like to have a real family. So, I can't just leave them, Ragna. I just can't!" said Roberta as tears ran down her tears. I didn't know how to respond to this, so I just pulled her into my arms and hugged her.
From that day on, I hadn't seen Roberta for nearly a month. This routine of training with Roberta lasted for nine months. Her progress was astonishingly fast. She was able to cut trees in half by that point too. It left me wondering how far she would have come had she spent another month training with Bjorn and me.
I was a patient guy, I understood what she was going through, I had assumed that she was embarrassed about opening up to me about her reason for wanting to learn how to fight. So, I gave her all the space that she could have needed. I also tried not to assume the worst.
I spent that time training by myself. I had noticed that by teaching Roberta, I too had grown leaps and bounds as a swordsman. However, once the second month came by, I began to lose my patience. I snuck to the Crimsonfield mansion. A part of me was hoping that Roberta wasn't caught up in anything too crazy. I looked into her room from a distance only to see that she wasn't there. I asked one of the slaves where she had gone, and they told me that her and Lord Crimsonfield had gone to the Kingdom of Longxia in the Orient. I was saddened by this revelation, but I was glad that she was okay. The slave told me that she will return in 2 weeks.
Those two weeks felt like decades upon decades. Once the time had arrived, I went to go see her at our usual time. However, she sat on the porch instead of the usual spot where she used to wait for me. This was a daily occurrence. I was afraid to approach her, so instead, I spent my training hours watching her from a distance atop the forest trees. I did not know why I did this. I just did. It felt like some sort of desire to protect her took over me.
One day, as Bjorn and I were collecting wood outside in the evening, I told him about my struggle and how I had practically been stalking her. Bjorn laughed at me and said that I had fallen for Roberta. I was dumbfounded by this revelation. Bjorn also mentioned that while I was away at the mansion, he got a letter from Roberta that was meant for me. He pulled it out of his back pocket and passed it on to me. The letter told me that she wanted to talk to me on the next day at around 09:00 am. She said that she would be heading over to a banquet at the house of Luceal. She wanted to see me just one more time before going there. Bjorn told me to face her tomorrow and give her flowers while I was at it. He said that I should gain the resolve to do it before I regret it. It seemed as if Bjorn had some sort of insight about something that I wasn't privy to. This was due to his age and maturity. I didn't understand it at the time.
As I was picking the flowers, Bjorn and I witnessed one of the most beautiful meteor showers our eyes have ever been blessed with the opportunity to see.
"Hey, Ragna look, how about you make a wish!"
"A wish?"
"Yeah, don't say it out loud. If I know your wish, it won't come true."
"I see." As I looked at all the stars flocked together like birds in the night sky, I thought to myself, (I wish Roberta was free.)
The next day, I rode to the Crimsonfield mansion with the bouquet of flowers that I picked up last night. I built up my resolve to tell Roberta how I truly felt. There were doubts flooding my mind about whether she would even want to be with me of all people. I even started to wonder whether I truly had romantic feelings for her at all. I don't ever recall having romantic feelings towards anyone before.
As far as I was concerned, even some of the prettiest girls in my village were merely flowers that decorated the landscape. Their beauty was merely something one would acknowledge in passing, no different to the blueness of the sky and the clouds that swirl around the sky's body like a wedding dress fluttering in the wind. To me, their beauty was something humans took for granted in daily life. The size of their bosoms, nor the width of their hips, nor their flowy angelic hair, nor the suppleness of their lips and the flush in their cheeks could move me. This was in part because of the resentment I got from them and the discipline I gained from Bjorn's teachings. The only thing that ever moved me was the way of the sword and crafting weapons for warriors who passed by our shop.
Bjorn used to tell me that his heart used to beat uncontrollably when he first met his wife. He would run out of words to say at times and if he did have anything to say, he would stumble over his words. Personally, I never recalled having such issues with Roberta. Speaking to her felt no different to speaking with Bjorn himself. So, that fact made me doubt if my feelings were genuine or not. I still kept riding forth towards the mansion.
I reached the mansion and took a peek at the gate. I noticed that Victor (the blonde bastard) was there. I couldn't let this minor setback stop me from speaking to Roberta, I was going in. My resolve was firm. I gazed at Roberta's room from a distance, and there she was, staring outside her window, just like she always did. It was almost as if she was waiting for me. I jumped over the gate and ran toward the tree as fast as I could, and climbed on top of it, flowers in hand. And there she was. The moment I saw her again after so long, my heart ached.
This was not the kind of ache one felt during emotional turmoil. It reminded me of the time when the Priest poured Holy Water in my face. It reminded me of the times when the villagers would chase me away with their brooms as if I was a turd on the floor. It reminded me of the times when the kids in the village threw rocks at me while making monkey noises. As familiar as this sensation was, it was nigh identical just without the weight of the sadness, fear, and feelings of rejection. Well, it would be a bit disingenuous to say those three emotions still weren't present in this moment. They were there as a result of my own self-worth.
For a second, I asked myself who I thought I was to think that a girl on the calibre of Roberta Crimsonfield would ever have feelings for me. Who was I to think that a woman, who was on a high enough plane of existence to draw the adoration of a man like Victor von Einsbern would ever love me. Even though these feelings were there, they were so buried deeply that they merged to become this melancholic emotion that I failed to grasp. To be honest, this feeling scared me.
I could have been at home swinging my sword, hunting some game with Bjorn, or even crafting an axe. But no, here I was, dabbling in things that I couldn't grasp. As I looked at her, I realised that to me, her beauty was not the type of beauty that blends into the landscape. Her beauty was a rare kind. Her beauty was like breathtaking sight of the meteor shower I had seen the night before when I wished for her freedom. Roberta, oh Roberta why did you bewitch me with these tangled emotions? I feel embarrassed even standing in front of you like this. Roberta.
I greeted her. "Oi, Roberta!" but she didn't seem to hear me. It was like she drifted off into her own world. So, I called out to her again and again. I even whistled at her and snapped my fingers to get her attention.
"Roberta! Roberta! Oii, Roberta! Hey! I'm calling you!"
"Huh?" she suddenly realized that a voice was calling out to her. For some reason, she had this weird look of confusion on her face.
"Who are you?" she asked.
"What do you mean you idiot?" I chuckled. "Hey, can I come in?"
"No… who are you?"
"What do you mean who am I? You're the one who asked me to come here!"
"When?"
"Just let me in before the servants catch me!"
"Uhm… okay."
"Thank you!" I then jumped into her room. As I landed, she scurried towards the window and stuck her head out to see if anyone had noticed me.
"Who the hell are you?" she asked, looking utterly bewildered.
"It's me, Ragna… Hello? Are you okay? You haven't been gone for that long you know."
"Oh… uhm… yeah. Ragna of course." She paused for a bit. "Why are you here?"
"Isn't it obvious? I came for you. Roberta." I said as I lifted her chin and closed in on her face. Bjorn told me that this move works wonders on the ladies. I couldn't let this golden opportunity slip away. I hope my feelings get through to her. Her eyes widened as if she had just run into a wild boar in the middle of the forest.
As I was about to kiss her, she slapped my hand away from her chin. "Hey, w…what do you think you're doing?"
I was puzzled. "Huh? What's the matter Roberta? Are you sick?"
"What? No, I'm not sick! But you laying your hands on me like that without my consent is enough to make me puke!"
"Hm, these must be one of those female mood swings my father spoke of."
"I just met you a second ago and you're already getting on my nerves."
"Huh? What are you talking about? We've known each other for almost a year now."
"Uhm…yeah, sure buddy."
"Man, you sure are acting a bit weird today. This must be one of those female mind games father warned me about."
"Would you cut that out?! What are you doing here anyway?"
"What do you mean, what am I doing here? You arranged this whole thing yesterday, remember?"
"Huh?"
"Someone knocked you upside the head, didn't they? Was it the old geezer? Was it blondie?"
"What? No!"
"Roberta… please tell me what's going on. Y…you don't seem like yourself today. If it's about that attempt to kiss you then, I apologize."
"Sure, apology accepted. Can you please leave now?"
"You're the one who called me here, you dolt! Tell me, what's going on? We haven't had the chance to see each other for months. I can tell that you feel like your control over your own fate keeps slipping from your hands. I can't fully relate to your struggles but, I want to be there for you, Roberta. So, why don't you just run away with me? We… we'll even go to the Dark Continent together like we promised. I… I can't bear seeing you like this. Cooped up in this hellhole! What's the point of you being in a house this huge when you feel like you are stuck in a prison?! Please, come with me and Bjorn. Sure, we might be some backwater hamlet. Sure, the house was small. But I could tell that you were happy when you were there. I don't know if whether it was the freedom that made you happy or the times we spent together, seeing you smile was more than enough for me. It was more than enough."
A tear started running down my cheek. Damn it, did I really start tearing up at a time like this? In front of the girl that I liked! Why did I end up saying something so uncool?! Bjorn warned me not to show any soft and sentimental feelings in front of a girl! During that moment I was pretty much sure that my efforts of trying to win over Roberta's heart were rendered moot. I wiped it away almost instantaneously out of embarrassment and frustration.
"I… I really don't know what you are talking about." She looked away. This situation was awkward for both of us. It made me wonder why she called me here in the first place if she was going to act this way. It was getting on my nerves. I thought she trusted me enough to share her deepest feelings, dreams, and insecurities. Guess I was wrong.
"Would you please cut that out? Just tell me what's wrong. Roberta."
Suddenly, someone unlocked the door to her room.
"Huh? Someone's coming." Whispered Roberta.
As the door opened halfway, she glanced to the side in panic. I jumped out of the window before the old geezer could enter. I began to regret my decision to come to the manor. I regretted even bothering to share my feelings with her. I should've just stuck to playing with swords. It was clear that I was an unlovable piece of shit. It was clear that love and romance had no place in my life. The only date that I was meant to look forward to, was a date with my foes on the battlefield.
Marx and I stormed home, seething. Once I got home, I found Bjorn bashing on a bar of steel in the smithing chamber. I could tell he had been looking forward to hearing how it went. He was expecting some happily-ever-after scenario. However, that was a far cry from what I told him. In fact, he would've figured it out whether I told him or not, just from the way I stormed in and started hammering my own bar of steel across the room. As I slammed my hammer into the bar of steel, he reprimanded me, warning that I'd ruin the purity and sanctity of the blade.
"Tell me what happened, boy," said Bjorn. As I told him the story, he said something that changed my perspective. "Ragna, it was always clear that Roberta had feelings for ya. I could tell by the way she would look at you. The way she felt comfortable to be herself unabashedly around you. The both of you were so into your own heads, hindered by your own self concepts that you couldn't even realize that your feelings for each other were mutual. Don't take whatever happened today to heart. You know Roberta is dealing with her own set of circumstances."
I was speechless. All I could say was, "Right," as I kept hammering onto the slab of steel.
Suddenly, the door opened, the bell jingling. "Hello~. Anybody home?"
"Father, looks like we've got a customer."
"I'm on it." Bjorn got up from his seat and went to attend to the customers. "Oh, Count Victor, you've arrived. Your sword is ready, sir."
Huh? Did he just say Victor? Oh, for Valhalla's sake, this was the last thing I needed today.
"Oh, I wasn't expecting to hear that this soon. I merely came here to check on the progress. This is splendid news! As expected from the craftsmanship of Bjorn, the Flying Axe," said Victor.
"I do not go by that name anymore, Count. I left that life over 20 years ago."
"Though, if we still had you among our ranks, her majesty's authority would spread across all 8 seas without any trouble at all."
"Sadly, I find no value in the art of war, Count Victor."
"You utter such words, yet you craft tools of war with such love and passion."
"Hmph. That is simply because war is all I know. However, you shouldn't thank me for crafting your blade, good sir."
"Oh? If not you, then who is worthy of my praises then?"
"Hmph! Hey, Ragna! Bring out Blade 640!"
Wait, Blade 640 belonged to that bastard? No way! To think that I put my all into crafting it! What an ironic twist of fate!
"Alright, I'm on it!"
I got up from my seat and grabbed the sword from the counter, where a collection of swords awaited retrieval by their owners. I wrapped it in a piece of white cloth. I wanted to fart on it, but held myself back. It's not the blade's fault that its wielder is a piece of shit. Blaming the blade would be dishonour both Bjorn and me. I left the room and walked past the counter.
"Count Victor, this is my son, Ragna. The one responsible for crafting your blade."
"Ah! You!" A familiar voice echoed in my ears. It was Roberta; she had come with Victor. When was the last time I saw her here, in this house? Seeing her filled me with joy; I couldn't help but grin. I had nothing of substance to say in that moment. Even if I said something, it would make Victor suspicious of my relationship with her, which could cause trouble for both of us.
"So, you are Ragna, huh? Interesting," said Victor.
So, this is Victor von Einsbern, huh? The bastard who's trying to strip Roberta of her autonomy! He's got such a punchable face. I've got to keep my composure and be professional about this. It's all business. Nothing more, nothing less. Cast your personal feelings aside, Ragna. Don't sabotage the reputation and goodwill Bjorn has built over the past two decades crafting blades for others. Retain your composure.
"Oh… hey. Here's your sword," I said as disrespectfully as I could, though I doubt it was even intentional.
"Oh, thank you," said Victor as he took his sword.
"Oii! Show respect to your customer you brat!" said Bjorn as he whacked me upside the head.
"Hey, ouch!"
Victor laughed it off. "It's okay Bjorn, such minor things don't bother me whatsoever."
Victor unwrapped his sword, held it up, and analyzed it from different angles. He stared at his reflection while stroking the stubble on his overgrown jaw. "Hm, this is a mighty fine sword. Your son is a prodigy, Bjorn. You've taught him well." He then began to swing his blade around.
"Thank you. He is a hard worker indeed."
"Well then, here is your commission, sir Bjorn. I am satisfied with the product," said Victor as he gave Bjorn a sack of gold minted coins.
"Thank you, Count Victor. Please come again."
Pff, you're right, please don't come again.
Victor and Roberta left the shop. I watched Roberta's back as she walked away. It felt like she was walking into an abyss, one she'd never return from. It felt like if I didn't reach out to her somehow, she would never come back and that things would never return to the way they used to be. I would never have a chance to lay under the tree with her on a hot afternoon while taking a break from training. I would never get to race horses with her again. I would never get the chance to spar with her again. I would never get the chance to take walks with her again. I would never get the chance to make her laugh again. Such a possibility made my heart ache. I had to reach out to her the only way I knew how.
So, I ran into my room to grab my sword. "Hey, what are you?-" Bjorn asked, confused by my actions.
I ran outside, my sword in tow, before they could step into their carriage and shouted at the top of my lungs, "Hey! Victor!" Roberta and Victor turned back to me after I yelled out.
"Ragna, what are you doing?!" exclaimed Bjorn.
I slowly lifted my sword and pointed it at Victor. "I challenge you to a duel! Please. Please accept my challenge!"
"Very well, I encourage," said Victor.
"Great! Now then follow me. We're taking it to the backyard!" Victor shrugged his shoulders and gave off a smug smile. His smug expression pissed me off to no end. He, Roberta, and Bjorn followed me to the backyard, where Bjorn used to train me. The same place where Roberta and I once trained. I wanted to show Roberta that I was strong enough to set her free. A part of me was resolved to do the dirty work for her. I was willing to slay Lord Crimsonfield, and Victor if she told me to do so. I didn't want her to bloody her beautiful hands. At the end of the day, Lord Crimsonfield was still her father. Such an act would have torn her beautiful soul to shreds. She would have come to hate herself even more than she already did regardless of how justified her actions were.
We arrived at the shop's backyard. Victor and I stood in the centre of the backyard and stared daggers at each other, anticipating each other's move.
"Ragna why are you doing this?!" cried Bjorn.
"Silence, father… you would never understand."
"Oh, Ragna… it couldn't be because of that, could it?" Bjorn whispered to himself.
I was glad that Bjorn understood. He always had an eye for these things, that's why I didn't need to answer him back in any way, because he had figured it out for himself. Bjorn gave off a heavy sigh in acceptance of my decision.
"Very well. However, should things get out of line, I shall step in. Do I make myself clear?"
"Fine by me," I agreed.
Eventually, everything came to a standstill. Every bird and critter fell silent, as the villagers gathered to witness the battle. A tiny squirrel on top of the giant acorn tree nearby dropped its nut on the floor. The moment the nut touched the grass, Victor and I dashed towards each other at incredible speeds. As our blades clashed, they created a blinding spark. Eventually, the both of us were caught in a mutual bind. This man possessed incredible strength. As he kept applying pressure, I felt him twisting his own blade in order to cause me to slip, but I caught wind of his strategy right on time and alleviated the pressure I put on the blade. Victor realised I had seen through his intentions, so he eased his pressure as well. We both jumped back before launching into another clash.
As our swords were swung and collided with each other repeatedly, hundreds of sparks started to flash repeatedly. Victor was proficient in the art of Einhand Schwert, this is the same type of fencing that Bjorn taught Roberta due to her possessing a Rapier. On the other hand, my fighting style, the Egillson Sword Style, was a two-handed fencing style that fell under the broad school of Destreza. The both of us were diametrically opposed in every single way, almost as if the gods had fated us to be enemies prior to being formed in the wombs of our beloved mothers.
With every swing of his Rapier, his one-handed style felt like mockery. Victor struck my stomach with the back of his blade, knocking me onto my back. The crowd cheered for Victor. Their celebration was expected, after all, they've always hated me. What surprised me more was that they even knew there was a duel taking place here. It was none of their damn business, yet they still wanna stick their noses up in places they do not belong. They piss me off to no end. Even more shocking than the crowd's cheers was the sight of Roberta laughing at me. Celebrating me getting knocked down. I couldn't tell if she was putting on an act out of fear of Victor, or if she was mad about what happened this morning.
"I believe that this is my victory," Victor walked up to me and reached out his hand to help me up.
That smug piece of shit rubbed me the wrong way, acting like he was some noble-hearted soul when, in reality, he was a piece of shit through and through. He disgusted me to no end, so I slapped his nasty ass hand out of my face. "Let's go again!" I yelled.
"Very well, I encourage," he said in the sassiest tone imaginable.
The cycle repeated itself. As the fight carried on, fighting him felt like battling a phantom. It felt like I was swinging my sword at a bunch of reflections in a house of mirrors. At times he didn't even bother clashing blades with me. It felt as if I was cutting through him. I'd need more than ten hands to count how many times he nearly wounded me. Only for me to block it by the breadth of a hair.
Frustration gnawed at me, but I kept swinging and blocking whenever I could. This bastard remained calm and composed. Damn it! He should be the one losing his mind, not me! I could feel my pride being shattered piece by piece. He then knocked me down over and over, with each loss being more violent and brutal. With each round that he won, I could tell that I was slowly getting on his nerves. The more irritated he was, the stronger his punches were. The stronger his throws were. The stronger his kicks were. The fiercer his sword slashes became. He sliced my back, cut deep into my upper thigh, slashed my cheek, and tore through my chest. He even bruised my eye. Each cut left a burning sensation in my flesh. If Bjorn's training didn't discipline me to the extent that it did, I would have succumbed to these injuries a long time ago. If I was like the other villagers, I would have died a long time ago.
My ability to move forward was not merely driven by my willpower. It was driven by my sheer physical durability. Without these two factors empowering me, I would have been a goner by now. No matter how bloodied and battered I was, I kept getting up, hoping I would drive him crazy eventually. Apparently, this whole scuffle dragged on for over 3 hours. The sun had begun to set. Even the villagers watching grew tired of this. Some left, leaving only a handful behind.
"Hey, don't you see that you're going to lose? Why do you keep fighting like this?! It's pointless!" yelled Roberta. She was clearly terrified, thinking I was throwing my life away. It seemed as if she had lost faith in my ability to win. Her doubt stung more than my wounds.
"Isn't it obvious? How can you not see as to why I keep fighting? Huh?!" I yelled at her. I was a fool for lashing out at her like that. I was battered, bloodied, barely standing. Losing my grip on my blade. Yet, with all this, I still expected her to have faith in a victory that didn't seem assured, it was unreasonable of me. But I still wish that she had some small amount of faith. Even faith as small as a mustard seed would have been enough.
I meditated for a few seconds. To beat this guy, I had to use Berserker mode. Berserker mode was a state of mind once used by warriors from Bjorn's tribe a hundred years ago. In this state of mind, a human was able to unleash a feral source of strength hidden deep within. This strength allowed humans to ignore all pain and remove all limiters to the output of both power and speed. It had severe consequences. If used over a certain length of time, one's bones would shatter because the body is not meant to possess such levels of power other than in short bursts. This technique also stripped a warrior of their mental faculties, so they were prone to attacking anyone and anything mindlessly.
Luckily for me, I hadn't fully mastered this technique. For the most part, it can only truly be achieved from consuming a certain drug, but without the drug, one would have to meditate and draw out your deepest carnal urges to the front. Without the drug, you are still aware of your surroundings depending on how much you allow your inner beast to consume you.
I drew out the power that was needed and ensured that I do not sink too deep into becoming a mindless beast, for a mindless beast is the type of opponent that Victor would have a walk in the park with.
Victor and I clashed blades a few more times. I was clearly overpowering him. He was caught off guard by my sudden surge in strength and speed. The effort he placed on blocking and repelling each attack slowed him down significantly because he had to take the time to push me back after each block.
I grabbed my sword near the tip of my blade and spun it around in order to throw him off balance. I used this chance to hit Victor on his hip bone using the hilt of my sword and used the impact as a means to propel myself to swing his sword in a circular motion, allowing me to slash Victor on the chest diagonally, following it up with a mid-air slash.
However, Victor snapped out of his stupor and immediately blocked the mid-air slash. He deflected my attack with his sword, sending me airborne. Before I could land, Victor drove his fist into my gut, launching me like an arrow. I collided into the acorn tree with my back.
At that very instant, I snapped out of my Berserker mode and collapsed. It hurt like hell. I thought I had him on the ropes, but he just screwed around with me and gave me a false sense of confidence. Damn it! It can't end like this! I thought to myself. My eyes were becoming blurry; it felt like I was seeing two Victors. That sight alone made me feel like I had descended into the Ninth Circle of Hell.
"That's my victory." Victor walked away. You could tell that he too was tired. At least I put up a bit of a fight. But I was still not satisfied. I could not accept a defeat as pitiful as this. He hadn't experienced the full power of the Egillson Sword Style. He had yet to feel the ferocity of my ultimate technique passed down to me by Bjorn. This bastard needed to taste it!
So, I forced myself to get up once more. My legs were heavy and wobbly; I could barely even feel them. The higher I raised my head, the more lightheaded I felt. I had to get up. For the sake of Roberta. I had to!
"I'm… not… done yet." I coughed out blood.
Victor's eyes widened in bewilderment upon hearing these words. As he looked back at me, he stared as if he had seen Fenrir himself manifest before him.
"I'm starting to get sick of you! Aaargh!" yelled Victor, his irritation at my persistence clouding his mind.
It was one of the funniest things that I've ever seen. I couldn't help but scoff. I managed to rip through his layers and expose a bit of the foul beast that he truly was.
Victor dashed towards me in preparation for a finishing strike. I clenched my sword ever so tightly, ready to use my ultimate technique. I took a deep breath and pulled from within me my darkest carnal desires and awakened my Berserker form once again. I was ready to unleash my ultimate attack.
My arm was unable to move an inch. I could barely feel my arm. The only thing I could feel was the rough texture of the hilt of my sword in the palm of my right hand. It was clear that I was at a loss. I was at the mercy of Victor's wrath. So, I stood there expecting to take the final strike and make my way to Valhalla.
Valhalla, huh? I began to wonder if my death in this instance was truly honourable or not.
As Victor was about to finish me off, Bjorn stepped in, blocking his strike with a machete he used for cutting wood in the forest. Upon blocking Victor's strike, a blast of wind exploded upon the impact of their blades.
"Victor… that is enough. You won. This is a mere duel, not a battlefield," said Bjorn.
"R… right. I apologize for losing my composure, sir Bjorn."
"It's okay. I apologize for my son's insolence. Please, allow me to tend to your wounds."
"Fret not, Bjorn, these are but shallow wounds. Well then, I better get going then. Farewell."
"Farewell, Count Victor. Have a safe trip."
I could barely hear a word they were saying. All I could hear was muffled murmuring. I was going dizzy. As Victor walked away, the acorn tree behind Bjorn and me collapsed. All that was left in its spot was a stump that was cleanly sliced. It was clearly Victor's doing.
He actually planned to murder me in that final moment. Funnily enough, I wanted to murder him too, honestly. If only my arm had been able to move in that final moment, I would have secured my victory. It was quite unfortunate.
As Victor and Roberta were about to enter the carriage, the remaining villagers were celebrating Victor as if he was some sort of hero who just slayed a dragon. But I paid no mind to them. All I could focus on was Roberta as she entered the carriage.
As she got in, I could see her through the window. The both of us locked gazes. It was clear that I failed her. If I were to succumb to my injuries now, I would go out happily, knowing that her face was the last thing that I saw.
No, would I even go out happily knowing that I couldn't set her free?
As the thought gnawed at me, my vision blurred, and I collapsed into darkness. Thud! My loss had been solidified. This loss stripped away any notions I had of ever becoming as strong as my father, Bjorn Egillson, the Flying Axe.